Quinn Shepherd watched Zechariah Lee’s departing back and suddenly called out, “Zechariah, don’t you want to show me your master’s saber technique?”
Zechariah Lee stopped, turned his head, and replied, “No, I want you to see my saber technique.”
Quinn smiled and said leisurely, “Earlier you told me you wanted me to see Logan Cross’s saber technique. That’s how I knew you wouldn’t be my match—because the saber technique belonged to Logan Cross, not to you. No matter how perfectly you master it, it’s still Logan’s. Now you want me to see your saber technique, and that qualifies you to be my opponent. Good. I’ll wait for you!”
Zechariah Lee walked away, his voice drifting back: “Don’t get yourself killed. My master Furylo has put out a bounty—plenty of demon god disciples are waiting for you up ahead.”
This guy is much more likable than his master Logan Cross. His saber technique really has improved—he’s advancing at a frightening pace.
Quinn watched him go, feeling a heavy pressure. His own muscles trembled, shattering the saber intent in Zechariah’s gaze—he even heard a crisp metallic ring, as if Zechariah’s look had become something tangible!
Such speed of progress is downright terrifying!
Zechariah Lee has made huge strides on the saber path. He already has the flesh and Primordial Spirit of a teenage true god—if he enters the extreme of saber technique, he might even surpass Quinn.
Now, he’s already at the edge of the saber-path’s highest realm. If he takes one more step, he’ll create a saber technique all his own—just as Quinn, after inventing the Sword of Calamity, brought his swordsmanship near the Dao. Zechariah will do the same for saber, getting close to saber-dao itself!
Zechariah’s rapid progress is thanks to the pressure Quinn gave him—but now it’s Quinn’s turn to feel the weight Zechariah brings.
“The biggest weakness of my body is that every part trains its own way—my hands are just hands, my legs just legs, my eyes just eyes, my heart just my heart. I can’t unify my body’s strength. If I could, my flesh wouldn’t be any weaker than those so-called teenage true gods and true demons—maybe even stronger!”
He walked toward the sun, deep in thought. Zechariah, Rain He, and the others have strong bodies because their cultivation methods were passed down by gods and demons—polished for countless years until every aspect of the flesh is honed to perfection.
Young experts like Zechariah and Rain He don’t need to think about how their techniques work—they just follow the steps, and their bodies reach incredible heights.
Quinn’s path is different. The Overlord Three‑Core Art he learned from Village Chief originally only had its first layer, and it was a patched-up, incomplete method—no divine arts, just technique. Later, he cobbled together all sorts of other arts, good and bad, until his Overlord Three‑Core Art became a patchwork robe, a beggar’s quilt covered in mended seams, always needing repairs.
Later, he learned the Grand Fostering Heavenly Demon Sutra and grasped the idea of a unified art. From Hansen Keane, he discovered the Grand Fostering Heavenly Demon Sutra was actually the method behind the Overlord Three‑Core Art.
Only then did Quinn’s cultivation method finally take shape—barely.
When Quinn got the True Dragon Nest and merged the True Dragon Lord’s cultivation art with the Overlord Three‑Core Art, it added even more patches to his method.
Too many patches—fist technique is just fist technique, leg technique is just leg technique, divine eye is just divine eye. In the end, it’s the method that holds his body back—not as strong as Rain He, Zechariah, or even Sabrina.
His thinking jumps where others don’t even dare. He’s not bound by tradition, which lets him invent all sorts of strange arts and divine abilities—like Primordial Spirit Guidance, the Eighteenth Sword Form, the Tri‑Source Spirit Conference Art—and even create things like the World Bridge, a massive metal artifact connecting two realms.
But it’s exactly because his thinking jumps so far that his cultivation method falls short.